little pieces
by McMuffin
Summary: An alternate ending to Desire.


_Written in Chemistry class, LOL. Oh what a good student I am. This is an alternate ending to Desire. I hope y'all like it! It was beta read by mcsteamyshottt. :)_

_

* * *

_Grey eyes hide doubt and guilt and years of longing and restrained actions and _heartbreak_ as they steam over and hot droplets dare to trickle down her cheeks. Echoes fade as he reaches the end of her hearing range. Out of sight and out of mind.

She hadn't even told him.

She hadn't even told him and had watched him lie to her. Her throat had constricted as his pupils had dilated and he had lied to her. She stands, numbed in shock, and bites the inside of her cheek to quell the incoming flood that hides behind the slowly opening gates.

She composes herself and heads for the exit. Karev sits by the entrance, books in his lap, no doubt studying. Her heels click loudly on the floor, and even though he's concentrating, only someone deaf could miss the booming clicks. He doesn't look up.

And she doesn't look back.

She sighs as the air hits her, cold, and she glances around at the trees and sky, wondering whether she'd be more suited to a place of sunnier climbs and palm trees. The idea tempts her for all of two seconds, until she realizes she'll never be happy if she moves. She doesn't want a new city.

She wants him.

She wants the man who loves her enough to lie to her before she has to admit, to say out loud, what she thought she wanted. _I broke the bet. I don't want you._ She wants this man who loves her unconditionally, and she will make this right. Fleeing to Los Angeles is not the answer, nor is trying to make a go of things with a guy who was only hers for a few moments of passion. So she sets her jaw in place, grey eyes firm, and clicks away to her car.

~*~

He swigs back another beer and sets the empty bottle on the bedside table. Sports' scores flicker on the screen in front of him, but his glazed over eyes don't even glance at the plasma. His hotel room, so used to serving as his womanizing lair, or his baseball lair for the past month, has now become his wallowing-in-despair lair. Four beers sit on the bedside table, and his body is draped across the bed. He never knew loving someone so unconditionally could hurt this much. Sure it had broken his heart to stay away from her when her husband had caused her all of that pain, but now, when it is just the two of them, no Derek, no screwing around… She had given up. She obviously doesn't want him, and he isn't sure if she ever had.

When she'd been pregnant in New York he had seen that while she was happy to be pregnant, she wasn't _happy. _So he'd slept with Charlene, given her a reason for having the abortion. He'd hated her, hated himself. But he hadn't hated her for aborting the baby, _no, _he'd hated her for _needing_ to, for believing he wasn't enough even when she was still pregnant.

She had never thought he was enough. She had always wanted more than he could give. She didn't trust him, and he had to agree- with his track record, he wouldn't have trusted himself. She still doesn't trust him.

It's just past midnight when he passes out, hoping that the coming day will be better.

~*~

At two, he wakes and is slowly heading to his dresser for some painkillers in the top drawer, when he sees a sliver of paper under the door of his room. Written in a wet, red substance, it reads 'please, open…'

He hurries to open the door, stumbling as he goes, and tugs on the doorknob a few times before remembering the need to turn the handle before pulling. He does. Her body slumps into his room, and upon her head's impact with the floor he swears and lowers his face over her, trying to whisper,

"Addison," but shouts instead.

He's still drunk.

~*~

Later when she sits on his hotel bed, holding a beer to the bump on her forehead, she scowls at him.

"Hey, you don't get to be mad at me, Addison. Why were you sleeping against my door?!" he mutters.

"Oh, I get to be mad at you, you idiot! I knocked for ten minutes, how didn't you hear?"

He gestures madly at the beers. "Hello?!"

She simply nods and rotates the beer to have a colder part pressing against her sore forehead. She stares down at his feet and they continue their game of silence. He spins a beer bottle in his hands, not unlike the periodical turning of her bottle. They sit, him probing her to speak, for nearly twenty minutes until she sighs and lowers the bottle.

"It's warm."

He looks at her and sees her pouting. He feels his head flutter, and he groans.

She looks concerned. "Mark, are you okay?"

"No, I'm not okay! You're here in my hotel room and I want you, but you don't want me! You shouldn't want me. I'm not good enough for you. I love you!"

She seemed stunned from his outburst. Then she glares (of course). "Stop lying God damn it!"

"I'm not lying. You don't want me; you don't think I'm good enough! I always cheat, I'm not… you shouldn't be here; it fucks with my head because I. Love. You."

At this point he doesn't even know what he's saying, what his purpose is in saying these things, he's just spewing drunken truths.

"I know! I fucking love you too, Mark! But you are good enough, you are… you don't always cheat… you didn't cheat this time."

They've somehow become standing, squaring off. Her plan of begging and apologizing has gone out the window.

"How did you –"

"Know? I always know, Mark," her voice is soft. "I knew every time you slept with another woman in New York, I knew when –"

"Hey! You don't get –"

"I'm not being critical, I'm just saying… I knew."

Her voice has died down, and they stand facing each other, breathing heavily.

"Why did you cheat?" He asks lowly.

She doesn't correct him. Breaking the bet is practically cheating on him.

"I was afraid. I thought you'd hurt me again… I sleepy with Karev because he seemed like a nice enough guy, and I don't have any baggage with him… I was scared you'd cheat on me again –"

"I wouldn't," he growls.

"I know. I know that. But fear… it's irrational."

He nods, understanding completely.

"Why did you lie?" She asks softly.

"I was trying to protect you," he says, sitting back down on the bed.

"Protect me?"

"I thought… if you thought I was the one who broke it, you wouldn't have to feel guilty, you could move on with Karev…"

"You shouldn't have to protect me, I don't need protecting. I did a stupid, slutty, shitty thing. You shouldn't have protected me."

"Don't you see, Addison? I'm, always protecting you. _Always._ In New York, I protect-"

"How? How did you protect me in New York? If I recall, all you did was break my heart."

"No. You were in love with Derek; you wanted and needed an out, so I gave you one. I love you, Addie, and if you don't want me… I'm protecting you by giving you an out."

He doesn't know why he keeps forgiving her. She doesn't know why she keeps hurting him.

She stares at him in silence, tears pooling in her eyes.

"I don't want any more outs." She looks down at him hopefully and he smiles a little, tugging her into his lap. "I love you Mark… I've hurt you so much, I don't deserve you or your forgiveness… but I'm asking for it."

He is silent.

Then.

"Go sixty days with no sex, no other men. Sixty days, cold turkey, and maybe, I'll believe you."

He's smirking, and he swears she snorts a little.

But this time? They make it.

* * *

_I had to give them a happy ending ;)_


End file.
